


The Dalaran Spy

by IcestormTundra



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: AND CHARMING, And grumpy cause he doesn't want to have to go to work today, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Gen, Rhydian Hartford being a sneak
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-04 01:31:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6635530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcestormTundra/pseuds/IcestormTundra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the early days of Mists of Pandaria, a death knight is sent out on an undercover mission to Dalaran to keep an eye on things as the tenuous relationship between the Horde and Alliance begins to crumble. Hidden within plain sight, amidst the adventurers and travelers at the inn, he stumbles upon a plot that could if revealed, threaten to shake the Horde to it's knees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dalaran Spy

**Author's Note:**

> This story is not yet complete but will when finished, be roughly 3 chapters long and 15,000 words in length (5000 words each). It's a spin off story from a far larger piece that I'm currently working on and I'm hoping that posting this will help me improve my writing as I'm a bit out-of-practice. If you have any critiques, recommendations or constructive criticism please go ahead, I need all the help I can get.  
> Art relating to this story and it's characters is found on my DeviantArt page, under the username IcestormTundra if you're interested.

Rhydian Hartford couldn't help but stare in furious bewilderment at the torn scrap of old parchment now resting in his hands, clenched so tightly between his fingers it threatened to tear. The mission statement scribbled in chicken scratch handwriting worthy of a child stared blankly up at him in response, as if taunting him with the possibility of freedom that had been snatched away right before his eyes.

It took all of his self-control and dignity not to throw the damned thing on the ground and grind it into the dirtied saronite flooring with the heel of his armoured boot. The sheer cruelty of it! He had already taken the liberty of packing his few belongings into the only satchel he owned (as tattered and worn as it was) and had been preparing to leave Acherus for Stormwind City when this piece of damned paper had been handed to him, demanding that he abandon his long thought out plans and instead travel to Dalaran of all places, on some poorly defined mission entailing he spend multiple evenings hovering in a bar listening in on conversations. This wasn't a spy mission; this was an excuse to piss him off!

Taking a deep breath and pinching the bridge of his nose Rhydian composed himself and straightened up to look up at the man who had given him the orders, forcing his voice to say politely, "Forgive me Highlord but I'm not sure if I understand. Why Dalaran of all places, if you don' mind me askin’?"

Highlord Darion Morgraine heaved a heavy sigh and shook his head while indicating for his subject to follow him as he walked - no trudged - away from the bone gryphon roost and back inside the dimly lit halls of Acherus. "Walk with me, Rhydian; I feel this needs an explanation."

"It does," the death knight agreed curtly, following the Highlord back inside and fighting to keep the bitterness from seeping into his voice. "I organized my leave well ahead of time, sir, and you authorized it over a fortnigh’ ago now."

"Unfortunately, I have had to reverse my decision."

Rhydian turned his head to look incredulously at the Highlord of the Ebon Blade. "Reversed it?! With all due respect sir, I believe I’ve earned my leave and I’m well in my mind to take it whether you've given permission or not!"

“I’m afraid that is no longer an option, and while I take no joy in sending you on such a task after you've been in service for well over four months, I am far more concerned about the current situation with Lady Jaina Proudmoore. I assume you have at least vaguely heard of what has happened to Theramore recently"? Highlord Morgraine asked, a hint of annoyance creeping into his tone of voice.

“Of course I ‘ave," Rhydian confirmed, though his eyebrows were still furrowed in confusion as he continued, “and I know of her newly acquired position amongst the higher-ups of the Kirin Tor and by extension the Alliance, though it still seems strange to me that they would appoint someone so... unstable, as Dalaran’s new ruler. But Highlord, she’s got no grievances against the Ebon Blade-“

“But she does hold a burning new hatred for the Horde which destroyed her city, the very Horde of which many of my knights are members, Rhydian," Highlord Morgraine explained in a voice that belied his waning patience. "The vast majority of our knights are still in Northrend fighting the remnants of the Scourge, and many of those again use Dalaran as a secure base in which to recover when off duty."

"You're worried tha’ Proudmoore will attack the death knights within the Horde?"

"Close: I'm worried that she will attack the Horde and that my knights will get caught in the crossfire."

“And you wan’ me to stay in Dalaran to keep an eye on things, so tha’ if Proudmoore takes up arms against the Horde we’ll get an early warnin’ about it," Rhydian finished with an irritated sigh, feelings his shoulders sag in defeat. "I suppose I’ll tack up Typhoon and get flyin’ then?"

“I’m glad you understand my intentions," Highlord Morgraine replied dryly as the two death knights finally reached the Highlord's personal quarters in the lowest level of Acherus. 

After a few moments of scrabbling around, Morgraine picked up several sheets from the untidy scattering of books and papers on the floor and handed them over to his subordinate. "We have secured you a place onboard the Northspear which is bound for Valguarde. Once you get there just fly your bird to Dalaran; stay away from any blue dragons and vykrul and you should be fine. Quite simple, really."

"Yes, quite," Rhydian added tiredly, a noticeable hint of disappointment creeping into his tone. "When do you wan’ me to leave?"

"Preferably as soon as possible, though at least be in the air by tomorrow morning so that you can arrive on time to catch the Icebreaker. I don't want to see those tickets going to waste."

"At the very least can I send a note to Mayima? Just t’ explain where I'll be for the next few weeks."

"Of course, but do try to keep the details of your mission somewhat private; I don't want the Alliance to hear of this, and that blasted sister of yours is a difficult one to keep quiet."

"I'll keep that in mind while writin’ it, sir." Rhydian frowned with annoyance at his leader’s choice of words but bowed respectfully to him anyway, and made a mental note to mention Andreadina in his message to the night elf.

 

Taking his leave and walking briskly back up the dusty steps towards the portal, he adjusted an uncomfortable crease in his blindfold and gathered his satchel from where it had been left hanging on a weapons rack earlier. Quickly checking inside to ensure all of his belongings were still there he promptly shoved his mission statement into one of the side pockets and went on to inspect the ticket and various other papers he had been given.

The sightless holes where his eyes once were twitched instinctually inside his skull as he read what his runeblade showed him. The ticket was a simple thing only a few inches in length, with the location and title of the ship, its destination and time of departure written clearly in calligraphic writing down one side, and an ink stamp printed onto the other heralding the crest and signature of the captain. The other papers were largely made up of newspaper cuttings and various letters detailing the events at Theramore, He focused in on one in particular that seemed to be a front page article.

'Theramore Felled by a Coward's Blow'

'Warchief of the Horde, Garrosh Hellscream, has landed a tragic victory for his once proud faction last night as a mana bomb was dropped Theramore Isle. Only an hour of ground combat took place during the battle before all Horde soldiers were ordered to retreat and the bomb was dropped from a passing goblin zeppelin. Only a single survivor was found at the scene, Lady Jaina Proudmoore...'

Rhydian frowned in disgust at the article as he recalled the initial shock of the incident. The journalist who had written the article had been right on the money when describing the act as a 'coward's blow'. In Rhydians opinion dropping such a powerful and deadly weapon on a city filled with innocent civilians, and a leader who had no intentions of bringing a fight to the Horde was a true coward’s method of avoiding unwanted losses, as well as an eerie reminder to him as how the Scourge had sacked Havenshire all those years ago…

Still, the death knight thought, he doubted that the Horde as a whole supported Garrosh in such a vile act, especially when so many of them were accustomed to the diplomatic leadership of Thrall. He wasn’t deaf to the hushed discussions many of the horde knights held in the corners of Acherus over the last few months after all.

Sighing in tired frustration Rhydian pushed the remaining papers and ticket into his satchel alongside a now crumpled mission statement, and slung the well-worn leather bag over his shoulder. Making his way back onto the gryphon roost he glanced up at the sky above him and listened briefly to the wind howling somewhere above amongst the slime-coated gutters of Acherus. A quick message from his blade confirmed the time to be around early evening, with a cloudless and breezy night in store for him later on.

It was his mount's ungodly screech of excitement that alerted the death knight to where the bone gryphon had been roosting, right before he was promptly knocked to the floor by the beast’s ecstatic greeting. The gryphon, a young male named Typhoon, had not been a powerfully built beast while he had been alive and like all males of his species was as thin and lightly built as his rider. Now without his armour on to hide it, the necromantic magic that had reanimated him all those years ago could clearly be seen hidden deep amongst his sun-bleached ribs, which leaked from his empty eye sockets like a volatile and invigorating elixir. Rhydian often wondered whether a similar maelstrom of pale blue warped magic lurked within his own chest, deep inside of his ribcage and nestled amongst his own forgotten and dusty lungs where his heart once used to beat.

Laughing at the gryphon’s antics, Rhydian pulled himself into a sitting position and fussed over Typhoon, scratching his bare skull with both hands in the place which would have been just behind the gryphon’s ears. After a moment or so Typhoon rolled over onto his back and began to knead at Rhydian’s forearm as he stroked him, while lightly flicking the tip of his tail back and forth and rumbling like contented house cat, causing the death knight to crack a massive grin in amusement at the endearing sight. After a few minutes of pampering Rhydian sighed heavily as he forced himself to straighten up and say regretfully to his mount as it squawked at him reproachfully. "Come on you great lump, we've got to get moving," before hauling himself to his feet and leading the bone gryphon back over to the tack room where he had left much of his equipment earlier on. "We've had a bi’ of a change of plan, got to go to Menethil harbour instead of Stormwind. You probably don't mind though do you? It'll be a shorter fligh’!"

Typhoon squawked softly in response, rolling to his paws and following his rider into the dusty and cramped back room at one side of the overlooking balcony, while nudging his huge hooked beak under the death knight's hand reassuringly and shivering his bony wings a little as if trying to show his agreement.

Inside lying in the middle of the floor was the well-worn leather bridle, stirrups and saddle that had been left aside by him earlier while preparing to leave for Stormwind, chosen from the collection of other riding materials that were hanging from vicious looking hooks nailed to the walls. Piled up near the back of the room were the impressive helmets and armour plating used for war mounts during the assault on Icecrown, as well as by many of the remaining death knights who had continued to fight the Scourge in Northrend. Turning over one of the helmets in his hands, Rhydian said out loud to his mount, "we might ‘ave to get you wearing some of this stuff, mate. It should help us blend in a bit, especially if we say we're out there fightin’ the Scourge or somefin’..."

Typhoon tilted his great head as the death knight spoke and stood quietly waiting as his master mulled over the idea in his head before coming to a decision. "Alrigh’ then, we'll do that. Just the basics though, I don't want to spend an hour getting’ you ready to fly every time we need to go somewhere," he concluded as he dug out a few of the newer armour plates designed to protect his mount's delicate cervical vertebrae, and set about briskly strapping them into place while attempting to wipe the thick layers of dust and grime from their scratched and well-worn surfaces.

 

Once the gryphon was tacked, armoured and ready to fly a good twenty minutes later, the duo walked back out and onto the balcony and was quickly greeted by a violent gust of wind that knocked them both sideways, forcing them to crouch lower to the ground as they carefully edged their way back towards the gryphon roost. As invulnerable and practically immortal the undead were, Rhydian reminded himself, there was very little that either he or Typhoon could have done to survive if they were thrown over the side of the floating citadel and splattered across the ground below. Not even the best necromancers could raise a death knight and his bone gryphon after they’d been turned into nothing more than a bloody stain!

Clouds hurried stormily across the sky as Rhydian mounted the gryphon and adjusted his satchel to ensure that neither it nor its contents would be lost to the wind, and gave Typhoon the signal to take off. With a brief moment of hesitation the bone gryphon responded, opening his dragon-like wings and letting the wind fill his long-since decomposed feathers before setting off at a gallop towards the edge of the balcony and using the railing to launch himself into the air.

The gales hit the death knight and his gryphon with full force, as if they had just rode straight into brick wall, and Rhydian was forced to push himself further into the saddle and grab its wooden handle tightly with both hands just to stay firmly on-board. With the wind howling furiously in his ears and the night's chill beginning to creep into his already chilly bones the death knight pulled on his mount's reins, indicating for the bone gryphon to bank right. With an almost metallic screech Typhoon responded, tilting his wings and flying in a sweeping arc until he was facing west, before angling his beak downwards and folding in his wings, using gravity to pick up speed for a moment or two before straightening out to fly level with the ground once more.

Far below them both the Plaguelands spread out like an endless patchwork quilt, with square plots of hedge-trimmed mouldering farmland, ruined towns once alive with markets and degenerate forests so infested with the Scourge plague that it seemed to seep into the very soil around it and manifest into something almost tangible. Yet there were people out there working to purge the taint from the dying landscape, a dream come true for any Lordaeronean who wished to return home and a relief to anyone else knowing that there are ways in which to reverse the damage caused by the plague of undeath. Undoubtedly the Scourge were still a threat, but they were no longer one that kept innocent civilians awake at night worrying that the plague might one day finally reach their own homes and take away their loved ones.

This was in large part the result of the Argent Crusade's continuous efforts in eradicating the undead legions with aid from their allies in the Ebon Blade and of the Cenarion Circle. The combined forces of all three organizations, as varied as their philosophies, and at times, ethics were, provided just enough of a push to clear the majority of the Western Plaguelands from the Scourge taint and allow it to be habitable by the living once more, even if the territory was now contested for by both the Horde and Alliance.

From his vantage point high above the Eastern Plaguelands however Rhydian could 'see' the paladins at Light's Hope Chapel going about their day, scurrying between buildings like ants in a model village. He sensed his runeblade scan the figures below, checking to see if anyone it recognized was in view but to his disappointment the red-haired paladin it sought did not seem to be amongst those gathered at the outpost.

'Redin must ‘ave already left for Stormwind' Rhydian said half to himself, half to Typhoon as he flew on, leaving the newly refurbished chapel behind. 'Not surprisin’ really, but I had hoped he would still be around to pass on my message to Mayima, at least then I wouldn't have to write out a note for her, and the poor woman wouldn't ‘ave to try and read it.'

Thinking again to his mission and the limited time he had left to reach the boat, Rhydian shook the loose thoughts from his mind and spurred his mount to pick up his pace. Typhoon squawked excitedly in response and beat his wings furiously to gain some speed, seemingly enjoying his battle against the raging winds to stay aloft. The death knight couldn't help but feel a surge of thrill as the world whipped by them in a flurry, the wind grasping at his hair and tugging at his clothes as if trying to drag him from his seat. Adjusting his position to sit further down into the saddle, Rhydian clung on for dear unlife.

 

It was the early hours of the morning when mount and rider finally touched down in Menethil harbour still soaked to the skin from their flight through a brief but heavy rainstorm they had traversed through in order to reach their destination. With stiff and unsteady movements Rhydian all but slid from his saddle and began wringing out what water he could from his hair while tipping the small lake that had been accumulating in his boots out onto the already damp ground, which slurped it up without gusto. Beside him Typhoon stepped down from the landing platform and shook himself out like a wet dog, sending a scattering of water droplets in all directions and causing the death knight to duck away from the spray with a cry of disapproval. The gryphon, however, did not appear to notice, and instead turned to nibble at the buckles that kept the saddle strapped to his back, squawking irritably at his inability to remove the sodden thing and instead beginning to attempt to shake it from his back without much success.

Looking around in search of help, Rhydian did his best to take in the local area and determine where exactly he had landed. The gryphon roost beside which they were currently standing was located on one of the tiny patches of dry ground that still remained above the waterline on the west side of the city, surrounded on all sides by a wall of sandbags to keep out the encroaching tide. Only twenty or so meters away the sea crashed up against the rickety wooden jetties where a single icebreaker remained safely moored on the farthest one despite the churning waves, the nearest jetty having collapsed into the sea during the Cataclysm alongside the rotting remains of a once fine vessel. Turning inland towards the centre of the settlement was the marginally impressive Menethil Keep still somehow standing after the devastating floods that had followed. Surrounding it on all sides was a network of neat bungalows and cottages, all with sandbags barring doorways and their windows kept firmly closed to keep out the floodwater and seemingly unending rain.

A warning from his blade caused Rhydian to turn east towards the nearest building and raise a hand in the hopes of attracting attention. A figure seemed to appear at the window for a moment before turning back inside, leaving Rhydian inwardly cringing at the thought of having to deal with undead-wary citizens after travelling for so long. After several agonising moments the figure reappeared at the doorway, pulling on a pair of waterproof boots and heading out into the floodwater towards them.

Unsurprisingly it was the flight master who had come to the rescue, still pulling her socks up and tying her long ginger hair back into a ponytail as she jumped up onto the elevated landing site, taking hold of the bone gryphon's reins with barely restrained hesitation and tying it to the nearest railing underneath a makeshift tent, before unbuckling the straps that held the beasts saddle in place. "Went for a swim by any chance"? She asked with a strained smile, tiredness and an inkling of nerves present in her features and clearly dampening her positive attitude.

"If I had gone for a swim I might ‘ave been drier," Rhydian replied with what he hoped was a disarming smile of his own, silently thanking the Light for the flight master’s good hospitality despite her clear unease around the undead. Slipping his armoured boots back on and grimacing at the squelching noise they made, the death knight turned to help the aging woman with his mount, using an old rag to dry most of the moisture from the gryphon's bare bones.

The flight master set the saddle and saddle blankets to one side to dry while grabbing a few towels to start speeding up the process. "You couldn't have arrived at a more reasonable hour though, could you? The sun isn't even up yet and I do enjoy having my breakfast before I start the day."

"Unavoidable I'm afraid, the ship I need leaves tomorrow midday and the Highlord would have my head if I missed it," the death knight explained with a grimace of his own, wringing out the rag into the ground below and going back to rubbing down his mount. "At least this way I ‘ave the chance to run a few errands before I need to leave again; I’ve got some letters I need to send off."

"Off on some mission to Northrend, I suppose?"

"Ya could say that."

"Ah well”, There was something of sympathy in her tone now, “At least you get to travel and see the world, that’s more than some of us get."

“I suppose so, seein’ things is my speciality," Rhydian remarked with well humoured sarcasm, pointing at his blindfold and raising his eyebrows as he did so.

The flight master looked up at him for the first time and then smiled with sudden good humour. "Hah! I can tell. Listen, you bring your mount to the stables and get him comfortable, I'll have my partner bring you down a few towels so you can dry yourself up a bit while I sort out this tack, alright?"

“Sounds good t’ me," Rhydian replied with a grateful nod while making a mental note to leave a tip for her later on - before unbuckling Typhoon's bridle and leaving it on top of a stack of boxes under the flight masters direction, calling the mount to follow, heading off in the direction of the stables, and sloshing through the knee-deep and murky flood water with Typhoon at his side towards the indicated building.

 

The inside of the stables was surprisingly well stocked and dry for such battered and water damaged city, Rhydian decided as he took in his surroundings, inspecting the meticulously cleaned equipment and neatly stashed supplies with an approving nod. Bales of hay and straw were neatly stacked in towers to one side of the spacious building along with several pitchforks, wheelbarrows and spades which were likely used for mucking out, while on the other side a row of wooden stalls was lined up against the wall.

Several of the end stalls were empty and the death knight chose the one farthest from the doorway to stable his mount, leading the undead gryphon inside the cosy enclosure and shutting both stable doors behind them, bolting them firmly shut. Somewhere to his right a horse let out a sharp, fearful whinny, its mottled brown head barely visible over the walls of the stall as it reared up in fright. Typhoon screeched in response and spread his bony wings defensively, backing away nervously from the intrusive sounds of screaming horses and stamping hooves with his head ducked low and tail lashing back and forth behind him like an agitated cat.

Reaching out to tap the bone gryphon on the beak and get his attention, Rhydian whistled and lead him over to the corner of the stall and away from the other mounts, coaxing the nervous beast into lying down on the warm bedding of straw beside him with a sliver of leftover jerky taken from his satchel. Sitting on the stable floor, Typhoon rested his massive head on his master’s lap like an oversized dog as the death knight stroked his bare skull soothingly, muttering words of comfort and feeling the tension and fear slowly leaving the gryphon's bleached bones.

With a sigh Rhydian leaned back against the stone wall of the stable and removed his sodden boots once more, tipping them upside down to help the remaining water run out before allowing his mind to drift once more to the mission at hand, keeping his hand moving as not to disturb his mount.

Thinking back to his last and only visit to Dalaran brought back nothing but grim memories of a glamourous city turned into an unlikely base of operations for military strikes against Ulduar, the Nexus and Icecrown Citadel. He had spent many long, sleepless nights scouting enemy locations and taking out their leaders one by one, coming back to that city gore-soaked and desperate for nothing more than a good long shower and the company of his family, still refugees in Stormwind City and unaware that he was even still alive. By the time the death knight had left for the Shadow Vault he had been glad to see the back of the mage city; at least at the former Scourge outpost he was only expected to fight on one warfront instead of several, and the presence of other death knights helped him feel less like a worm infested apple in a fruit market.

Shaking the loose, disturbing thoughts from his mind Rhydian sat up a little straighter and reached into his satchel, taking out what his blade told him was a blank sheet of paper and a blunted pencil. Not wanting to leave his mount alone while he searched for a way to sharpen it the death knight braced the sheet as firmly as he could on upper side of his leg plate, hoping that the metal surface would at least keep his writing clear enough to read, before beginning to compose a letter.

Mayima Nor’Serrar, 

I’m sorry to say but I won’t be able to reach Stormwind in time for our departure aboard the Skyfire; something unexpected has come up at Acherus and I’ve been assigned to Northrend for the next few months under Darion's orders. I’ll do my best to make my way down to you and the others once this whole mess is over.

Send my regards to my family, Mia and Redin, and try to keep Andrea away this letter if you can. You know what she’s like.

Kindest regards,

 

Rhydian Hartford.

 

Even with his blind eyes he could tell his signature was wonky.


End file.
